For the Love of a Hellhound
by DivineDebris
Summary: Daphne McKnight crashes her car in Beacon Hills. Jordan Parrish is at the scene. Why is she always cold, and why is he the only one who can make her feel warm? Post Season-6/Series. Multi POV. Minor language/Thematic elements. Parrish/OC, Stydia
1. Chapter 1: Crash

**For the Love of a Hellhound**

(Takes place after the end of the series, shortly after they discover Alec.)

**Chapter 1: Crash**

Deputy Parrish sat in his desk staring at the pile of ever-growing paperwork. It had been almost a year since Scott McCall defeated the Anuk-ite. Lydia and Stiles continued their ever-blossoming relationship, and the younger wolves were adjusting well to their notoriety of having been outed to the public now that most of the fear had abated.

Most – though not all. With the help of Agent McCall the events in Beacon Hills were largely written off as an elaborate hoax rooted in superstition and the growing wolf population in the area, but many of the locals still knew. But Parrish remained. Stagnant. Something was missing, and he could feel it.

"Available units, we have an accident, possible 505 on Route 11."

Parrish picked up his radio immediately. "This is Parrish. I'm on it."

"10-4"

He'd been itching to get out of the office for days, but now there was almost a sense of urgency. He ran to the squad car, flipped on the lights and sped toward Route 11.

* * *

_*Twenty Minutes Earlier*_

Beacon Hills wasn't a town Daphne had given a moment's thought in years, apart from the time she wondered if it had a good fast food restaurant off the interstate on the way to school. The past several months had changed that.

Rumors of supernatural creatures and bizarre, unexplainable phenomena had trickled out into the surrounding towns and into the surrounding cities. The news wrote it off as bogus theatrics pulled by a group of teenagers, but the damage was done. Beacon Hills was taboo - practically haunted. And as she headed north for spring break, she once again became consciously aware of each whispered tale.

Daphne stared down at the gas meter in dismay. Of course she hadn't thought to gas the car earlier, and now her options were limited: stop in Beacon Hills to fill up or drive on fumes for God knew how long.

She missed the main exit and cringed as she neared the next one. It was now or never. She grudgingly pulled off at the last exit and made her way to the nearest gas station. Unlike the main exit, the nearest gas station was over a mile down an FM road, much to her chagrin.

It was the last week in April in California, but that didn't stop her from having on the heater in the car. Doctors couldn't explain it, but Daphne had felt cold for the past four years. They guessed a rare type of hypothyroidism that couldn't be picked up in the typical blood tests, or poor circulation. Different guesses every time.

Driving past the Sheriff's station she remembered the rumors, and her heart rate accelerated. Werewolves. Creatures of the night. Demons. Could they really live in such a quaint little town? An unfamiliar wave of heat washed over her senses, and Daphne had to will herself to breathe normally.

_Where was the gas station?_

She turned down a forest road to try and get turned around when she thought she saw something from behind, but when she blinked it was gone.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Daphne was so done with Beacon Hills, and she hadn't even made it to the gas station yet. Flipping a U-turn, she sped back toward Route 11, and turned back toward the interstate.

As she passed the Police Station again she felt a sheer sense of panic. It made no sense, but the further she traveled the more defined that panic became. Looking behind her one last time she accidentally swerved.

The shoulder was far too narrow, and she over-corrected, lunging across the road and diving into a ditch.

The last lucid thought she had was swearing at her own stupidity.

* * *

"This is Parrish. Driver is unresponsive. 11-41."

"Copy that. Ambulance is on its way."

Parrish could see the girl in the car still breathing, and the blood appeared to be minimal, but he could tell her heart rate was erratic.

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

He listened to the sound of her heart with his hellhound senses, and if anything, the beating became even faster and more frantic. If he didn't get her out, she was going to go into cardiac arrest.

He wrenched open the passenger side of the door and extricated the girl from her seatbelt, and laid her on a stretch of grass.

"It's going to be okay. I've got you." He brushed the deep brown tresses from her face to check for cranial injuries.

Deep gray eyes fluttered open, and the girl's pulse slowed.

"Am I dead?" she looked at him with grave confusion.

"No. I'm Deputy Parrish from the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department. You were in a car accident. An ambulance is coming to take you to the hospital now, but I had to get you out of the car."

She still appeared bewildered. "You feel warm."

"Yeah, I get that a lot…" Parrish tried to deflect the conversation. "Adrenaline, you know..."

She stared into his eyes with an air of perplexity. "I never feel warm."

Parrish wasn't sure what to say, but her eyes fluttered closed into unconsciousness, and he was spared the decision by the sound of the approaching ambulance.

She still needed to be questioned about the incident, so he called the station and followed as they took her to the hospital.

* * *

Warmth. It was the last thing she remembered. He was so perfectly warm, like a beam of sunlight wrapped around her body. Like a fire that filled her veins from the inside out.

She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital room. _Shoot_. She'd forgotten about the car accident. Spring break was ruined.

A nurse with curly black hair and kind eyes opened the door and greeted her with a smile.

"Oh good! We were worried about you, Miss McKnight. I'm Melissa, I'll be your on-call nurse for the evening."

"Evening?" Daphne frowned. "How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half. You had a pretty bad concussion."

"Where's the man who found me? The deputy?"

Melissa smiled. "Officer Parrish is the one who pulled you out of the car. We'll let him know you're awake, and I'm sure he'll be back here soon."

"He was warm." Daphne mumbled. "I've never felt warm like that."

The nurse's eyes widened. "Well, physical touch can often cause the sensation of heat within the body. Maybe you found him attractive, and your body's hormones reacted to him holding you?"

Daphne suddenly blushed thinking about the vague recollection his blue eyes and chiseled jawline. "Heh, yeah, maybe…"

"Are you hungry? I can get you a snack."

"Yeah." Then she frowned. "Can I also have a toothbrush?"

Melissa laughed, "Of course! And your backpack was brought in with you if there's anything in there you need."

"Thank the lord," Daphne sighed. She wasn't about to face the police officer who made her hormones apparently go haywire with anything other than minty fresh breath.

* * *

Parrish opened the door to see the woman from the accident chatting amiably with Mrs. McCall. Her gray eyes sparkled, and her smile made him glad he'd been the one to find her.

"Miss McKnight, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about yesterday's accident."

She grimaced, "Let's get this over with."

"Let any one of the nurses know if you need anything, Daphne. I'll be back to check on you in an hour." Mrs. McCall smiled and left the two alone.

"Daphne's a nice name." Parrish offered.

"Thanks," she frowned slightly. "Do you know what happened to my car?"

"It was towed. I can get the number for you to call."

The girl groaned, "I bet insurance totals it. I don't even want to think about how much a taxi to UC Davis is going to be." She threw her hands in her face and grumbled again.

"So you're going to school?"

"Graduate degree in Anthropology. I had the pipe dream of being an archaeologist. I graduate in 2 months."

"What brought you to Beacon Hills?" This was the most pressing of all the questions. Any time a person mysteriously appeared under somewhat dire circumstances either he or Sheriff Stilinski had to make sure there weren't any supernatural connections.

"To be honest I wasn't even going to stop here. I wasn't checking my gas gauge carefully and had to fill up somewhere."

Relief flooded his senses. That almost certainly ruled out supernatural forces. "What happened that made you crash?"

"It's going to sound ridiculous."

Parrish smirked, "I'm not sure there's anything you could tell me that would sound ridiculous."

Daphne pursed her lips. "I was… scared. I've been going to UC Davis for six years, and I started hearing stories about this Beacon Hills place, and wolves that run around, and people that turn invisible, and I don't know. I started thinking about it, and I freaked out and lost control."

His smirk instantly fell, not quite sure how to proceed. "Are you still afraid? I'm sure the accident didn't improve your opinion of Beacon Hills."

"Not that I've seen enough to accurately gauge an opinion." She looked in his eyes and half-smiled, "but I do like what I've seen so far."

He quirked a grin. "Is that so?" A blush crept up her cheeks, and the grin widened.

"My imagination must have been getting carried away. It sounds crazy anyway. Supernatural creatures in Beacon County, yeah right."

Parrish's smirk softened. "What if it was true? What if _I_ was a supernatural creature?" He wasn't sure what possessed him to say it, but he didn't entirely regret it either.

Her mouth fell open slightly, and she grinned. "Okay, I'll play along. What are you, Deputy? Are you a werewolf running around the streets of Beacon Hills?"

He should have made up something ridiculous, but he was enjoying the banter. "I'm actually a hellhound."

Daphne laughed out loud. "Wait, like the three-headed dog that guards the underworld?"

"Do I look like a three-headed dog to you?"

"Okay, then tell me," she sighed with a chuckle. "What is a hellhound?"

"A _one-_headed shape-shifting demon that's a guardian of the supernatural."

She bit her lip, deep in thought. "Maybe you're just _one_ of the heads then..."

"You don't believe any of this, do you?"

She scoffed, "If I didn't have the capacity to believe, I wouldn't have felt scared, would I?"

Jordan considered her words as she continued.

"It would be unnerving at first. I honestly don't know how I would handle it, but I keep an open mind."

The words felt strangely familiar. He'd made a similar sentiment years ago before discovering the supernatural world himself. "How about this - if you could be any supernatural creature in existence, what would you be?"

"I'd be a wizard, go to Hogwarts, and have a three-headed dog named Fluffy."

Parrish let out a low laugh. "Really."

"If you get to be a demon dog, I get to be a witch."

He was about to argue, but ultimately let it go. "A three-headed dog named Fluffy? You're kidding."

"No, you're right. If I had a Cerberus of my own I'd _definitely_ name it Parrish."

They both laughed, and he noticed the way the silver in her eyes reflected in the light from the setting rays of sun.

"It's Jordan by the way. Not just Parrish."

She grinned. "Hey, I can get behind having a hellhound named Jordan too."

He returned the smile. "So, Daphne,"

"Hm?"

"I do have to ask you a few more questions."

"Of course," she looked lost in thought for a moment but shook her head. "Go ahead."

"If you weren't planning on stopping in Beacon Hills, where were you intending on spending Spring Break?"

"I was headed home to Seattle. I had a… a friend who wanted to reconnect. I figured, why not?"

"A guy."

Daphne blushed. "Yeah. I probably should have said no. But I felt like something's been missing, and, I don't know, I wanted to see if a crazy, impulsive trip to see a terrible ex would help me find it. It sounds so stupid saying it out loud now."

"It doesn't sound stupid."

She stared at him for several seconds. "Notwithstanding the hospital bills and loss of a car, I'm glad things went differently."

"Now _that_ is the strangest thing you've said yet."

"No, really," she looked at her hands. "Just having this short conversation with you is better than any conversation I ever had with him. I'm - relieved that I'm not there."

Daphne's phone rang, and the color from her face drained. "Speak of the devil."

"You don't have to answer."

"No, I'd rather get it all out of the way now." She smiled weakly at him before answering. "_Hello?"_

Jordan tried not to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to pick up on some of the words.

_...babe, I've been waiting. Where you at? You haven't been answering my calls._

"Hey, Doug, I'm sorry, I'm not going to be able to make it after all. I was on my way, but–"

_You know what, just save it._

The insults and expletives that followed from the other side of the phone filled the deputy with rage.

When the voice on the other end finished, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you for illustrating so perfectly why this was a terrible idea. Don't call me again." Daphne hung up the phone, and her breathing was shallow.

"Does he always speak to you that way?" Parrish shook his head in disbelief.

"Not always." She still seemed in shock. "He's a bit of a drinker."

"You deserve better than _that._ Hell, anyone deserves better than that."

"I know." Several seconds passed, and she chuckled, "Can you see why I said I'd rather have wrecked the car?"

"Yes."

She shivered and pulled up the blankets over her shoulders.

"Do you need the nurse?"

"No, I'm just little cold. It's fine."

He fell silent for several seconds. "When I pulled you from the car, you said you never feel warm."

"It's rare." She peered at him from the blankets and smiled. "I own a lot of coats."

Her hair flayed around her face as she squished in the hospital linens, and he couldn't help but grin. "Do you want me to ask the nurse for more blankets?"

She bit her lip. "Probably."

"I've got to go back to the station and file a report of the accident, but I'll make sure you get plenty of blankets on the way out."

Disappointment flickered across her features. "Am I going to see you again?"

Her lips settled into a half-pout, and Parrish found himself distracted by them for a moment. "Yeah, of course." The piles of paperwork could wait.

She beamed, and he found himself feeling just as grateful that she had crashed her car in Beacon Hills. The paperwork could _definitely _wait.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading! I realize I still have a few unfinished stories. I am slowly working on a couple of them and will start posting updates as they are completed. This one is already almost finished, though, so rest assured the updates will be consistent. I finally finished watching Teen Wolf, and Jordan Parrish is a great character, so I figured I'd flex my FanFic muscles again. Thanks again! -V_**


	2. Chapter 2: Cold

**Chapter 2: Cold**

Stiles Stilinski sat across from his father at the dinner table with a dubious expression. "So she's in the clear."

"Yes, Stiles, for the fifth time, Daphne McKnight is not a supernatural being. You shouldn't even be asking me about this anyway." Sheriff Stilinski eyed his son with disapproval.

"I don't know, Dad. I've just got this feeling. Parrish seemed so insistent that he be the only one to see her. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?"

The Sheriff looked unamused. "Stiles, look at the file. She's an attractive, young woman. You're reading way too much into this."

"Hey, maybe you're right. But maybe I'm right. And trust me, I'm going to find out." He got up to leave the room, and the Sheriff groaned.

"Stiles, don't meddle."

"You know me, Dad. I never meddle," he called out from the hall.

"Never meddle, my behind…" The Sheriff scowled and went back to his dinner.

* * *

Parrish arrived at the hospital later than he'd planned the next afternoon. Turns out the paperwork couldn't wait after all, but Daphne beamed when he opened the door, and that eased his thoughts.

"You made it! And you brought… a present?" She raised an eyebrow.

He laughed lightly and pulled the partly obscured book from his pocket. "Not exactly a present. I borrowed it from a friend. Do you know what a bestiary is?"

Daphne inhaled in surprise. "I mean, I'm an anthropology major. I've heard of cultures having them." She peered at him suspiciously for a moment but then laughed, "You're going to show me the entry about hellhounds, aren't you? That's how you knew so many specific details about them."

"Yeah," he answered automatically, taking a seat beside her. It was certainly better if she thought that. "I thought you'd find it interesting."

He handed her the book, and she opened to the bookmarked page on hellhounds.

_The hellhound, also known as Garmr, Cerberus, the Black Dog, or Bearer of Death is an amortal spirit said to serve as guardian of the supernatural world..._

At first she smiled reading the page, but the more she read, the more it felt like a realistic account and less like legend.

_… The vessel of a hellhound often has no conscious recollection of a hellhound's behaviors, as the hellhound is a creature of night, and will act of its own accord while the host body sleeps..._

"Daphne, are you all right?"

_...if not expelled, the hellhound may consume the vessel body, gaining full control until the host no longer exists…_

"Daphne. Daphne, are you… crying?" Parrish sat back in his chair, momentarily stymied.

"What? No." She forced an uneasy chuckle. "I just have an active imagination. I know it's not real." She handed him the book, projecting an air of amicable ease. She honestly had no idea why she had started crying. It was just a book after all. "I promise, I'm fine. I do it when I get really into movies too."

Jordan grabbed the book, brushing against her fingers as he did so, but at that moment Daphne gasped so loudly that he nearly dropped it.

"What's wrong? Do you need a nurse?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. "No, I just, nevermind." Warmth had electrified her body in the moment his skin touched hers. Could it really have been hormones or chemical attraction, or was there was something about Jordan Parrish?

"Are you sure?" He looked troubled.

"I was thinking about something I read in the book." _Not entirely a lie._ "It said the hellhound could completely consume its host body, and I was thinking about how awful it would be if that happened to someone… someone like you."

Shock settled on his features. "You were crying… for me?"

"I know it's stupid." She stared at her blanket-covered feet in the hospital bed. "I told you, I have an active imagination."

He scooted his seat closer to the bed, holding the book purposefully. "Even if every creature in this book was real, you'd know I'm still me."

Her lips upturned slightly. "Oh really… How so?"

He grinned, opening the book to the black fiery dog etched on the page. "Look at this guy, so serious. He's got no sense of humor."

"Not to undermine your point, Deputy, but I don't know that you have much of one either." She giggled, and the deputy rolled his eyes. "I'm kidding. I know you're you."

He was suppressing a grin as he listened to her laughter peal across the room. She was beautiful. The door opened then, and he straightened immediately.

"Melissa!"

"Miss McKnight, I have to say, it is endearing to have a patient so excited to see me." She turned to Jordan with a bemused smirk. "However, I didn't expect to see you here today, Deputy."

"Right," Jordan suddenly felt unsure. "I should probably get going."

"Don't go on my account. I just have to take a few vitals, and then I'll be on my way."

They sat awkwardly while Melissa tested Daphne's blood pressure.

"Miss McKnight, the good news is that you'll almost certainly be cleared to leave in the morning. It was a pleasure being your nurse these past few days. Buzz me if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you."

Daphne turned to Jordan with a myriad of unfinished thoughts swirling within the recesses of her consciousness. "I suppose this is probably the last time we're going to see each other then."

"I could give you a ride to the tow lot tomorrow."

"It's been totaled. No point. I'll just go to the bus stop tomorrow and head back to school."

"That doesn't sound like much of a Spring Break."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I ought to stay in Beacon Hills a little longer?"

Parrish flushed slightly and grinned. "I don't have to go in tomorrow. I'd be happy to show you around."

She paused, appraising him curiously. "I'd like that."

"Great. It's a date."

* * *

Stiles and Scott sat down the hall, whispering in hushed tones.

"Okay, what are they saying?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "They're talking about hanging out tomorrow. Stiles, are you sure about this?"

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"Not really now that you mention it, but come on, Scott. You and I both know that some perfectly normal girl from out of town did not just miraculously appear and fall for Parrish. That's not the way it works around here. Beacon Hills is literally a beacon for supernatural creatures."

"I know that. I do. But Parrish can take care of himself."

"Boys, what are you doing here?"

Stiles blanched. "Mrs. McCall! We were just- ah- leaving. Yeah, leaving."

"Mm Hm, Good call. And bring me dinner next time you plan on trying to eavesdrop on patients."

"Will do…" Stiles stared at the ground.

Scott shook his head as they exited the hospital. "There was nothing about that conversation that seemed off to me."

"We only caught the last 2 minutes before your mom _caught_ us."

"And I'm glad she did. We're not in high school anymore, Stiles. We can't stick our nose in every supernatural creature's business."

"You know what, Scott. You're right. Parrish is an adult; he can take care of himself. I shouldn't have come to you with this."

"Thank you."

Stiles offered a saccharine smile as he plotted silently. No. He shouldn't have gone to Scott - _he should have gone to someone else._

* * *

Scott sat with his mother the next morning, eating their breakfast in silence.

"All right, spill. Why were you and Stiles spying on Jordan Parrish yesterday?"

"It's nothing."

"Scott, I am your mother. I know when it's not nothing."

"I mean, it could be nothing. Stiles is suspicious of the girl from the car accident."

"You mean Daphne? She seems like a sweet girl."

"I don't know. Sometimes Stiles just gets-"

"Fixated?"

"Yeah." Scott looked up at his mom. "Fixated, exactly. But she didn't say anything suspicious, so I told Stiles to back off."

"Hm."

"What?"

"It's probably nothing," she looked up with a concerned expression. "But there was something she said right after she woke up. She said Parrish had felt warm and that she'd never felt warmth like that before."

"You think the hellhound made that happen?"

"I don't know. Like I said, she's seems like a nice girl. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know."

Scott felt appeased. "Thanks, Mom."

* * *

Parrish arrived at the hospital just after 9 in the morning, feeling good about the day's plans. But that good feeling faded when he saw the cleaning staff leave Daphne's room, which was now spotless and completely empty.

He approached a nurse at the front desk.

"I'm looking for Daphne McKnight. Has she switched rooms?"

"Let me check. Oh, honey, no, she signed out just before 6 a.m. You might want to try her cell, dear."

Parrish's stomach sank. He hadn't thought to ask for her number.

"You look like you lost a puppy," a voice called from a few feet away.

He turned, swelling with relief at the sight of her. "You're still here."

"I signed out early, so I wouldn't get billed an extra day. Getting your only car totaled kind of forces practicality on a person."

"So… do you want to get some breakfast?"

She beamed. "That sounds great."

* * *

Stiles and Malia watched the couple exit the hospital from the jeep.

"Okay, here they come."

"Oh wow, Stiles, she's kind of hot. Can you really blame Parrish?"

"First of all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Secondly, it doesn't matter. Even if she was a supermodel, if she's interested in Parrish, she's a suspect until proven innocent."

"Isn't stalking illegal, especially when it's a cop?"

"Malia, Jordan Parrish is not a cop. I mean he is a cop, but not _just_ a cop. He's our friend, and we're looking out for him."

"And Scott's okay with this?"

"Not _exactly_. But… we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Stiles."

"Shh. Come on." The engine roared to life, and the two of them followed from a reasonable distance.

They watched the pair park, go into a diner, and order breakfast.

"It's almost 75 degrees. Why is she wearing a heavy coat?" Stiles frowned.

Malia shrugged, "Diners get cold."

"Or _maybe_ she's a werecoyote like you, and she feels cold, because she recently shifted back to her human form."

"No. I would have sensed it."

"Not if she can mask her scent the way Satomi's pack could."

"Stiles, this is stupid." Malia wrenched open the passenger door and stepped out onto the curb. "I'm done with this."

"But I need your super werecoyote hearing!"

"Goodbye, Stiles!" She grinned and walked away.

Stiles groaned. Lydia was still at MIT, Derek was off in Mexico somewhere, Liam and Mason were away for Spring Break, and Alec was too new and too young to involve in something like this. He'd have to take matters into his own hands.

* * *

An hour later Daphne and Jordan stood at the base of a hiking trail.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave the coat in car? It's pretty bulky."

She shrugged off the coat and immediately shivered, sliding it back on. "No... yeah, I think I'll leave it on."

"You sure? You'll work up a sweat."

"And when the wind blows on the sweat, I'll feel even colder!" She scrunched her nose. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so," he smiled effortlessly, and they started up the trail.

True to her word she never took off the coat, and even shivered a few more times. It was an endearing - if not odd - quality about her. And it was cute to see the way her eyes would light up as she looked around the higher they climbed.

"This is beautiful. Thank you for this."

"You didn't get a Spring Break. It was the least I could do."

"I'm pretty sure most people wouldn't have done this much."

"I'll tell you a secret," he grinned. "I'm not most people."

"Right," she laughed. "The mysterious guardian of the supernatural. How could I forget?"

Part of him wanted to tell her it was true, but that was completely irrational, and he suppressed the urge.

As they neared a scenic overlook at the top of the trail, Daphne tripped on a rock and began to fall. With his hellhound reflexes Parrish caught her easily in his arms, and she gasped at the contact.

"Are you all right?"

She said nothing for several seconds, her eyes not leaving his. "You… feel warm."

"Sorry." He stepped back immediately. Had his hellhound senses been getting out of hand?

"No." She stared at the ground in confusion before slowly slipping off the coat. "It felt good." She stepped closer to him until they were nearly touching. Then she reached up her hand and tentatively touched his face. "Really good."

The hellhound within him was keenly aware of the current interaction, more so than usual. This surprised Parrish. Since he had merged with the hellhound, it was very much a live-and-let-live situation, but something was different now.

He glanced down at Daphne's lips, and the hellhound's thoughts were in perfect sync with his own in that moment. Every part of him wanted to kiss her.

He leaned down to close the gap when the sound of a nearby twig snapping made Daphne jump.

"What was that?" She clutched Parrish's side, scanning the surrounding forest apprehensively.

Parrish homed in on the nearby surroundings with his hellhound senses and glowered subtly. "Stiles, what are you doing here?"

Stiles emerged from a nearby trunk holding his baseball bat. "Oh, heh, hey Parrish. Didn't know you were going to be here. I was just taking a stroll in the woods, but I can see you're busy, so I'm going to go now."

Stiles scurried down the trail, and Parrish glared after him.

"Someone you know?" Daphne looked confused.

"Stiles is the one who let me borrow the bestiary. He tends to get paranoid about strangers."

"Enough to bring a bat with him?" she wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Besides, we should probably head down and get some lunch."

"And then to the bus depot and back to reality."

Parrish couldn't help but feel disheartened at the thought. They started down the trail, but he was pleasantly surprised when she reached for his hand and held it as they walked. She clutched the coat in her other arm, not shivering once on the way down.


	3. Chapter 3: Hot

**Chapter 3**: **Hot**

After lunch and a tour of the town it was three in the afternoon by the time the pair made it to the bus station.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, the last bus to Sacramento left 15 minutes ago."

"Wha- when is the next one?

"Tomorrow at 8:45 a.m."

"I guess I'll take that one," Daphne exhaled in disappointment.

"I didn't realize how late we were. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'll just stay in a motel or something."

Parrish said nothing for several seconds before finally replying, "You could crash on my couch if you wanted."

Daphne turned so fast that her hair flew in her face. "W-what?"

Parrish stammered, "I mean, it's my fault you missed the bus. But you could also stay at a motel if you want."

Her beat thumped as she considered the options. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"Absolutely."

"And you're sure there's room for me?"

"Yeah, it's not a problem."

* * *

_It was a problem._

"Parrish, you only have one couch." Daphne glanced around the apartment in disbelief as the last rays of light eked in through the windows. "And no bed!"

"I can sleep on the floor."

"No! I'll take the floor. I'm not going to let you give up your only sleeping space for me." She sat on the floor indignantly and folded her arms.

Parrish crouched beside her. "I'm not going to let a guest sleep on the floor."

"I don't understand why you would offer it in the first place."

"You were talking about money and practicality, and then you missed your bus, and I don't know. I didn't want you to have to stay at some seedy motel."

"That's kind of you." She pursed her lips. "But I'm taking the floor."

"Then so am I."

"Hmph."

He showed her the bathroom, and they took turns getting ready for bed, which for her involved putting on a thick pair of flannel pajamas.

He on the other hand exited the bathroom in nothing but a thin pair of shorts, and Daphne turned way, wide-eyed.

"Sorry, I'll put on a shirt."

_No, stay shirtless. _"Probably a good idea," she said in a much higher voice than normal.

She peeked over as he pulled a sensible, black t-shirt over his well-defined shoulders and abdomen and elicited a light shiver, but not from the cold.

Parrish handed her a pile of blankets and scowled. "Take the couch. I'll feel bad if you sleep on the floor."

"I'll feel bad if you sleep on the floor too, so I guess we both lose." She grabbed the blankets and wrapped them around herself like a cocoon.

"You can't be that cold. I turned on the heater."

"Well, I am, and if you'll excuse me, I would like to sleep now."

"Okay, Me too."

He laid on the floor with nothing but a pillow and a light sheet, and she continued to bundle in the sheet and three blankets that had been provided to her.

Thirty seconds of shuffling and silence passed, and she groaned. The thin rugs atop the hardwood floor did not do much, and she still felt cold.

"Take the couch."

"No."

"Daphne."

She groaned again. "Fine."

Pulling the blankets up with her, Daphne rebundled on the couch, but she still couldn't get warm enough.

Several minutes passed, and finally Parrish sat up. "Daphne."

"I'm sorry," she moaned. "I'm not meaning to keep you up."

"Can I try something? I think it will help."

She considered his offer for two long seconds. "Okay."

He scooted over until he was sitting on the rug in front of the couch. "Give me your hand."

Her heart thrummed, remembering the warmth she'd felt the last time they touched. Tentatively extricating her arm from the blanket, she found his outstretched hand.

Twining her fingers with his, the relief was instant, and she exhaled loudly.

"Why are you so hot?"

Parrish chuckled. "You think I'm hot?"

"Warm. Heated…" She giggled sleepily, "and also hot." She squeezed his hand with a sigh.

The warmth coursed through her veins, like her body had been infused with sunshine, and as she drifted to sleep, Daphne hoped it never ended.

* * *

When Daphne's alarm went off the next morning, Parrish wasn't sure how he'd gotten where he was. Somehow he ended up on the couch, and even more strangely, somehow Daphne was blanketless and breathing placidly atop his chest.

"Daphne."

"Mm."

"How did we end up like this?"

Daphne opened her eyes, blinked twice, and shot off of him immediately. "Wha- how? You were..., and then I was... I'm confused."

"_You're_ confused? There's no way we could have ended up like that without waking up."

"I'm pretty sure this is evidence that we defied those odds." She scrambled to the bathroom and closed the door a little too roughly.

Five minutes later she exited the bathroom fully dressed with her hair in a messy bun.

"I'll… wait on the couch." She met his eyes tentatively. They weren't filled with regret like he expected, and he couldn't detect any fear when he focused on her heart rate, but there was something there. Something he couldn't decipher.

Parrish decided to take a cold shower to clear his head. He had merged with the hellhound, become one with it in a sense. There was no way it was acting of its own accord. Could something like this really have happened on its own?

* * *

_"8:45 bus to Sacramento is now boarding. 8:45 bus to Sacramento is now boarding."_

"Thanks for the ride." Daphne scuffed her shoe against the pavement, not wanting to leave.

"Any time." Parrish's smile sent a wave of tingles down her spine.

"I'll have to wreck my car in Beacon Hills again sometime."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Hopefully next time we won't have to factor in concussions or hospital visits."

"I'll be finished with my Master's Degree in June. Maybe I could visit again."

"Absolutely. You should stop by the station."

"Maybe I will." She embraced him and breathed in the heat radiating from his neck and shoulder. "Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome," he said softly, hugging her around the coat that now felt far too warm.

"Goodbye, Jordan." She kissed his cheek, and pulled back quickly, getting in line without looking back.

* * *

Parrish touched the side of his face, feeling stunned.

"So that's it, huh?"

He swung around to see Stiles standing by a nearby pillar.

"I could have you booked for following me."

"Yeah, somehow I don't think it would stick," Stiles shrugged. "That was quite the goodbye. Very romantic."

"What do you want, Stiles?"

"I want to apologize. She seems nice, and I let my suspicions cloud the obvious."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"That she's totally into you. Hellhound or no hellhound."

"It's a little late for that. She's going back to school, and who knows when she'll be back."

"Well, according to the report you filed, she graduates in two months. Could be then, eh?"

"You looked at a confidential accident report? I _should_ have you booked."

"Nonsense, I was just… looking out for you, buddy…" he laughed nervously. "Don't tell my dad."

Parrish glared.

"Well, you can keep in touch, right? Did you give her your number?"

"No." The color drained from Parrish's face. "We were together the whole time. I didn't think about it."

"Well, scribble it on a napkin or something."

Parrish pulled the bus ticket receipt from his pocket. "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, hang on just a second." Stiles scrounged around in his pocket, finally fishing one out.

Daphne was already on the bus, and Parrish ran to the front of the line.

"I'm sorry, sir, if you're a ticketed passenger, you need to go to the end of the line."

"I just need to give my number to someone. Please."

"Sorry, sir, those are the rules."

He scanned the tinted windows looking for her. "I don't see her."

"What is the point of having hellhound senses, if you're not going to use them?" scoffed Stiles, jogging up to him.

It was an older local route bus, and the windows lowered an inch. Parrish wasn't sure what good it would do, but he closed his eyes and focused on the nearby heartbeats. If he could find the window, maybe he could slip the receipt inside. He found one slightly faster than the others. Then he heard it. A shiver of cold.

He ran to one of the rear seats, and their eyes met.

The engine of the bus started, and Daphne looked back and forth from the front of the bus to Parrish, unsure of what to do.

"_Hold up your number, genius,_" Stiles shouted.

Parrish held the scrap of paper toward the window, and realization dawned on Daphne's face.

"I'm sorry, sir, you're going to have to back up. The bus is leaving."

A security guard blocked him from getting closer to the window.

"I just need to give her this. Please."

"Sir, don't make me call the police."

Parrish stepped back in shock. "I am the police."

Daphne was scrambling in her bag, but it was clear she hadn't found what she was looking for. They stared at each other for several seconds until the bus drove away and turned toward the interstate.

Stiles approached and patted him on the back. "There, there, Parrish, I'm sure she'll come back."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Two months. That's not so bad."

Somehow it already felt like an eternity.

* * *

The next morning Daphne entered the digits of a number she'd never dialed before. There was an answer on the second ring.

"Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department."

"Could I speak to Deputy Parrish?"

"This is an emergency line. Are you in trouble?"

"No, but—"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but if you want to talk to an officer privately you need to know his personal extension. Have a nice day."

"No wai—" The phone clicked off on the other end, and Daphne grumbled. On the one hand she missed Parrish and wanted to talk to him, but on the other hand she had a thesis to complete so she could graduate. With a groan she realized that Parrish would be a severe distraction if she found a way to contact him, and she painstakingly set the phone down. She'd try again in a few days.

* * *

_**Valentine's Day admission: I prefer the Marrish (Jordan/Lydia) ship, but I loved the Season 6 story line so much that it's okay that the story went a different way. That's probably the whole reason I wrote this fic. "Well, this fictional character that I adore needs love too!" XD Happy Valentine's, fams.**_


	4. Chapter 4: Strike

**Chapter 4: Strike**

Three months passed, and life had settled into the monotonous. Parrish helped Scott's pack from time to time. Alec, the new werewolf still struggled during the full moon, so much so that Derek had returned from Mexico to offer his assistance when necessary.

When the latter had heard about Daphne, he had a few choice words about taking precautions around strangers. Parrish appreciated the concern in some regards, but another part of him - not even the hellhound part - felt patronized. But he hadn't heard from Daphne since that day at the bus station, so he focused on his work, and passed the days until the thought of her took a corner in the recesses of his consciousness.

It was mid-July, and portable fans were running on each desk to combat the summer heat gathering in the back of the station. The heat didn't bother Parrish, but others got cranky. The female deputy at the front desk was in a particularly foul mood that afternoon.

"I don't care what Stilinski says. There is something wrong with the air conditioning unit. If it doesn't get fixed soon, I'm filing a formal complaint."

"Do you want me to talk to him, Martinez?" Parrish offered.

"Well I guess everyone wants to talk Deputy Parrish, don't they? This must be my lucky day."

"What do you mean?"

The woman was clearly about to lose her temper. "What I _mean_ is that some _girl _has called asking for you every other week for the past 3 months, and I'm done with it. Next time she calls, I'm tracing the call and having her arrested."

Parrish's heart stopped. "Someone's been calling for me, and you didn't think to tell me?"

"It's not my job to report every non-emergency call, _Deputy._"

His voice rose dangerously. "_She wouldn't have called every other week if it hadn't been important._"

_"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT AN EMERGENCY!"_

Sheriff Stilinski threw open the door to his office.

"Enough. The both of you, what the hell is going on?"

"Daphne's been trying to call the station, and Martinez didn't report it."

"Daphne?" Stilinski squinted. "You mean the girl from the car accident? Are you seeing her or something?"

"I—" Parrish grimaced. "I forgot to give her my number before she left."

"Oh ho…" Deputy Martinez snorted. "Boy, you have problems."

"Alright, calm down, you two. And Martinez, next time someone calls more than twice, you let me know."

"Yes, sir." She threw one last look at Parrish and snickered, shaking her head as she returned to the front desk.

"Look, Parrish, I know you're frustrated, but can't go yelling at all the junior dep—"

Martinez returned with a dubious expression. "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's some weirdo in a coat asking to see Deputy Parrish."

"Weirdo in a coat?" Parrish's eyes widened. "Daphne."

He pushed past Martinez and briskly paced to the front. She was wearing a giant, puffy, ski jacket, and she looked adorable.

"Jordan." Her smile might as well have lit up the whole room, and she threw her arms around him.

"Wait," he laughed. "There's something I have to do. Let me see your phone."

"No, I'm not done," she hugged him for a few more seconds before stepping back and pulling the phone out from one of the puffy pockets of her coat. Then to his surprise she removed the coat completely and hugged him again. He had to admit the embrace felt nicer without the extra layers of clothing. "Now hurry up and give me your number before we forget again," she chuckled.

He typed in his number and returned the phone. "I had no idea you'd been calling the station. Trust me, I would've—"

"I know." She placed the phone in her back pocket and embraced him one last time. "Sorry, I'm making up for all the times I thought of you over the past three months."

"You only thought of me three hugs worth?" he teased. "I'm hurt."

The light resonating in her chest as she laughed made him want to pull her closer.

"Come on, I have something for you in my desk." He led her by the hand toward the back past a very confused Deputy Martinez.

He sat at his desk and pulled a blue gift bag from one of the bottom drawers.

"A gift?"

"A graduation present."

She bit down a grin and peeked inside. Then her laughter chimed like a bell through the room as she pulled a plush figure of a three-headed dog from the bag.

"It's a little Cerberus. It's perfect. Thank you."

They embraced again, and Parrish's eyes fell on her lips. Once again the hellhound was there, paying very close attention. Their lips nearly touched when Stilinski's door swung open once again.

"Not here, Parrish." He eyed the Deputy sternly.

Parrish froze for several seconds as he weighed his options. "Permission to leave early, sir."

Stilinski narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "All right, get out of here. But you're going to make it up this last hour, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Parrish grinned and left with Daphne.

"I wouldn't have minded waiting, you know."

"I wouldn't have gotten any work done."

They strolled into the parking lot hand-in-hand, and Parrish felt like nothing could ruin the day.

* * *

Stiles and Lydia cuddled in bed with various articles of clothing strewn about the room.

"You know what, let's stay in tonight," Stiles murmured as Lydia turned to kiss his shoulder.

"I would love that," she faced him fully, planting a kiss on his lips, "but we're doubling with Malia and Scott tonight, remember?"

"C'mon, we see them all the time," he groaned.

"No. _You_ see them all the time. I just got home from a semester of college and want to hang out with our friends."

"Ahh, fine."

"I always get my way," she grinned.

"Yes, you do." He kissed her again. "So where are we going tonight?"

The words echoed in Lydia mind as she heard the same question being asked by a different voice, somewhere in Beacon Hills.

"Lydia?"

Stiles knew what to do in situations like these. He dimmed the lights, grabbed a pen and paper from beside the bed, and placed them carefully in Lydia's hands. She immediately began to sketch madly on the page. A circle with three smaller circles in a triangular pattern and ten elongated, curved silhouettes behind, forming their own triangle.

"So, I guess we're going bowling?" he exhaled. "Does this mean somebody's going to die?"

"I don't know." She stared at the page in a daze. "But something's going to be there. Something different."

"It's, ah, nice to know things always go back to normal when gang gets back together," he faked a smile. "I'll call Scott!"

* * *

"You've never been bowling," Parrish grinned as the pair grabbed their shoes.

"No, I have! But they had those rails on the side, so you can't lose the ball."

Parrish laughed. "Don't worry, I've only been a few times."

Daphne shivered as she laced her shoes, but he now understood for whatever reason that his touch helped with that. Whether it worked for everyone or just her, he didn't know, but he certainly didn't mind it. He let his hand rest against her for a moment and watched as she blissfully inhaled.

"Everything okay?" he smirked.

"Everything is great." She beamed.

* * *

A few minutes later Lydia hugged Malia at the entrance to the bowling alley. "It's so good to see both of you."

"You too. I'm a little surprised you picked bowling though. This place is swarming with teenagers and sweaty hormones."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Stiles cut in. "Lydia says we're supposed to be here tonight, and I think we've all learned by know not to bet against a banshee."

Scott grabbed his shoes and scanned the room carefully. Lane after lane was filled with groups of friends. How would he know which… and then he saw her.

"Daphne."

"What's that, Scott?" Stiles asked.

"The girl from the hospital. She's here with Parrish."

Lydia stared down the lanes with a far off look in her eyes. "Then we should go say hello."

"Wait, Lydia! Gah—" Stiles trailed after her.

Malia lingered behind beside Scott. "Do you think it's a coincidence that Parrish and Daphne are here the same night as Lydia's vision."

"I don't know." Scott's focus lay wholly on Parrish and Daphne. "But we're going to find out."

* * *

The evening had gone well by all accounts - even when Scott's pack decided to say hello. Lydia seemed to be the only one at ease with Daphne's presence. Scott and Malia were standoffish, and Stiles was, well, Stiles. But after they left for their own respective lane, the night went smoothly.

There were several times Parrish wanted to kiss Daphne that night, and he probably would have if the pack hadn't been staring them down every five minutes. As he walked her to her hotel door, the thought planted itself in the forefront of his mind.

"Thanks for tonight." She swiped the keycard to her room and opened the door. Then she turned to him apprehensively. "Hey, I was wondering if I could speak to you about something. Do you want to come in?"

"Of course," he followed her in and let the door shut behind them.

She turned to him with an uneasy expression. "This is probably going to sound crazy, and rushed, but every time I keep thinking about where to go next, I can't stop thinking about Beacon Hills. Like this is where I'm supposed to be."

Parrish's mouth fell open with surprise. "Like you feel drawn here?"

"Yes, and I know you and I don't know each other well, so I was concerned that it might seem like I was being too forward or moving too fast." She looked at him nervously, "So I wanted to know how you would feel about me possibly, maybe staying longer."

Parrish's face broke into a wide grin. "That sounds great. And… you can even stay on my futon if you want."

"Futon!" she gasped in amusement. "So somebody finally upgraded their sleeping situation."

"Yeah, a friend told me I should look into it."

"Sounds like a wise friend."

"Definitely."

She bit her lip and peered at the floor, the uncertain look settling on her features again.

"What is it?"

"There's something else I need to tell you, and I'm not sure how to go about it, because it really does sound crazy."

"I'm not going to judge you."

Daphne took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I think you were telling the truth about being a hellhound."

"Wh—"

"Please, let me say it now, or I'll never be able to." She took another deep breath and started again, "I've felt cold every day for the past four and a half years. Doctors can't explain it. They can't treat it. I just had to live like this. Then the first time I met you, when you touched me, I felt warm in this penetrating, profound way I don't even understand. The more I'm with you, the warmer I feel, and I have to believe that there is a supernatural reason behind it. And whether it's because you're a hellhound or something else, I don't care. I just know that I don't want it to end."

Parrish couldn't believe what he was hearing. Knowing that she wanted to be with him in spite of being a hellhound was amazing in and of itself, but it was more than that. They shared a connection of some kind, a connection he wanted to continue to explore.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned in.

_Knock knock knock_

Parrish swore, and wrenched open the door. Derek Hale stood in front of the door, forcing a smile.

"Sorry to interrupt. You and I need to talk."

"Go ahead."

"In private."

Parrish let out a low rumble. "I'm sorry, Daphne. I'll be right back."

The door closed, and Derek's smile immediately dropped. "Are you out of your mind?"

"What, so I'm not allowed to have a personal life?"

"I know you haven't always been in Beacon Hills, but this girl could be dangerous."

"She's not dangerous."

"You think so now, but she could be like Kate or like Jennifer."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Placing your trust in someone without being absolutely certain of who they are gets you killed."

"So Scott sent you, is that it? And I'm guessing that's why they were at the bowling alley. Am I being followed?"

"Lydia had a vision of the bowling alley, and Scott called for back-up. They had no idea you would be there."

Parrish faltered. "Lydia saw the bowling alley?"

"There aren't coincidences when it comes to supernaturals. There is something wrong with that girl in there, and you need to figure out what it is."

"I'm not part of Scott's pack, and you need to leave."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Derek stormed off and across the parking lot, and Parrish rapped on the door harder than he meant to.

Daphne opened it with a wary expression. "Everything okay?"

Parrish stepped inside and stared at the ground. "Yeah, but I should probably go. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm sorry."

He softened. "Trust me, you're not the one who should be sorry."

"Your friends are looking out for you, and if I don't fit into the equation, I don't want to get in the way."

He crossed the room until he was right in front of her and rested his hands along the base of her neck. Then he drew closer until he felt her breath on his chin. "You're not in the way."

When their lips finally met, Daphne moaned softly, and Parrish felt the air around them grow heavy. He could feel the Hellhound part of him at the forefront, and suddenly he felt it trying to claw his way out to the surface. _No. Not here._ Parrish pulled back, shocked.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to rush this." He forced a smile and gave her a painstakingly chaste kiss before pulling back again. "I have to go to the station for an hour tomorrow, but I can pick you up at 9:30?"

"That sounds great."

Daphne's smile made him ache to kiss her again, but he willed himself to leave the apartment and go to his car.

_What the hell was that?_ Jordan replayed everything that had happened in his mind. He and the hellhound had merged. Their lives were now shared - one existence. _Was there something the hellhound was still hiding? _He threw his head back in the seat. As much as it physically pained him, he would have to keep from kissing Daphne again until he figured it out.

Lifting up his phone, he dialed the last number he wanted to.

"What happened?"

"Can we talk about it at my apartment?"

"I'll be right there."

* * *

Scott sat on a chair at the kitchen table, processing everything Parrish had just told him.

"When you're near her, you feel the Hellhound closer to the surface?"

"Yes."

"And when you kissed, the hellhound tried to take control?"

"It's not like that. It feels like we're the same being, but tonight it felt like there was a part of me that needed to be the hellhound."

"You can't let _that_ happen for obvious reasons."

"I know. I don't know what to do."

"Stop seeing her?"

"You don't understand, Scott. Or maybe you do, but I can't _not_ be with her."

"You barely know her, Jordan."

"There's something about her. I can't explain it."

"Even if your feelings are as strong as you say they are, you can't turn into a hellhound while kissing. It would kill her."

"I know that. Believe me."

Scott paused, deep in thought. "That's why Lydia saw the bowling alley. If you had kissed Daphne in a public place like that—"

Parrish paled at the realization. "I could have killed her."

"Or anyone else in that bowling alley. You have to find a way to suppress the hellhound when you're together, or someone's going to die."

"How do I do that?"

"I could talk to Deaton about it tomorrow."

Parrish nodded silently. He briefly wondered if he should tell Scott that Daphne had felt drawn to Beacon Hills, but now didn't seem like the time to address it. It might not have had anything to do with Beacon Hills anyway, he rationalized. Those feelings could have stemmed from her desire to be with _him_. It was the safer explanation, and he ultimately decided to say nothing.

"I'm going to go check on Alec, but call if you need anything."

"Thanks, Scott."

"You might think you're not a part of the pack, but you are a friend. Remember that."


	5. Chapter 5: Up In Flames

**Chapter 5: Up In Flames**

Daphne moved in the next morning with the understanding that she would only stay until she got her own place and a job, but each night either she drifted to the couch with Parrish, or he somehow ended up on the futon with Daphne.

He'd made no move to kiss her since that night, but it had been almost ten days, and he could feel the tension building from the both of them.

"I don't get it." She closed the lid of her laptop the following morning, folding her arms in a huff.

"Don't get what?" Parrish looked up from his bowl of cereal.

"We like each other. It's obvious."

Parrish looked down at his cereal and stared hard at a single oat.

"Am I a bad kisser?"

"NO," his head shot up immediately. "That's not it at all."

"Then what is it? Because I'm here. And I'm going crazy wondering why every time I make a move or it seems like we're about to kiss, you take off." She looked genuinely pained, and Parrish felt his resolve crumble.

"You're going to think it's crazy."

"We've already established that you're a guardian of supernatural creatures. Try me."

"When I kiss you, I feel like I'm going to catch on fire."

She turned the words over in her mind for several seconds. "...Literally?"

"Literally." Then he hesitated, "And if I hurt you, I don't know what I would do, but I don't want to find out."

She frowned. "How hot can you get?"

"I'll show you someday, if you don't mind waiting."

Daphne offered a resigned half-smile, "I don't mind waiting."

Parrish reached across the table and grabbed her hand, but he only had it for a second when Daphne jumped up from the table. "It's 7:50! You're going to be late to work."

He swore and shoveled down his last few mouthfuls of cereal.

Daphne gathered what she needed for the day, then the two crammed into the bathroom to brush their teeth. If they hadn't been so keenly aware of the time crunch, it would have made the physical closeness much more difficult.

They made it out the door in three minutes and stood to part ways in the parking lot. Parrish paused and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before heading to his car.

"Call me if you need anything."

She smiled and began walking toward Main Street, and Parrish felt a small weight lift. Things were going to work out.

* * *

Stiles paced around the current werewolf hideout with a dry erase marker and a white board.

"Stiles, we've been over this a million times," Malia groaned.

"It doesn't matter if we've been over it a million times, because clearly, none of you are listening."

Derek leaned against a pillar looking utterly bored. "We've been here for an hour, and you still haven't gotten to the point."

"The point is that tonight is the full moon! Alec attacked Liam last month, and Scott the month before that. We're going about this all wrong."

"Isn't that why I'm here now?" Derek glared.

"It's refreshing that you think so highly of yourself," Stiles rolled his eyes. "No, you'll be running a perimeter on the outside to make sure that there are no hunters nearby. Lydia and I will be on standby at her house in case any banshee stuff comes up, and Liam and Malia will be helping Scott with Alec. Piece of cake."

"Really." Derek glowered in dissatisfaction. "Why am I even here? Why don't you call Parrish?"

"_Someone_ gave Parrish permission to stay with his girlfriend tonight," Stiles shouted. "Apparently _someone_ didn't seem to think that the full moon would be that big a deal!"

"Take it easy, Stiles," Scott walked in the door with Alec, shaking his head. "You're blowing this way out of proportion. Things are getting better, aren't they Alec?"

Alec shook his head nervously, not looking confident in the slightest.

"Besides, we can still call Parrish if we need him. It'll be fine."

"Oh, yeah, sure, because every full moon is fine," Stiles fake-laughed. "Yeah, good luck with that."

* * *

Daphne woke to the sound of faint buzzing shortly after midnight. Parrish was scrambling around the room looking for a shirt.

"Top-left drawer," she mumbled. "You did laundry two days ago."

He came up and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Where are you going?" she exhaled tiredly.

"Scott needs some help with something. You should go back to sleep."

"Mmm, be safe."

He ran his hand across her shoulder before leaving, effectively waking her up completely as he went out the door.

Ten minutes passed, and Daphne tossed and turned several times before finally giving up. She walked over to the window wearing a tiny pair of shorts and her flannel pajama top. The light of the moon crested in the sky, and Daphne shuddered. She'd surmised that Scott and the others also had supernatural abilities, gauging by their overprotectiveness of Parrish, but somehow the full moon confirmed it. She was about to try going back to sleep when a distant howl filtered into her ears.

Fear for Parrish hit her in that moment, and any remaining desire to sleep dissolved. She peered out the window once more, and a faint fiery trail seemed to materialize in the direction of the forest. Grabbing her coat, Daphne locked the door behind her and ran to the parking lot.

As she looked around the parking lot, she spotted the flames lining the ground where nothing burned. With a gasp Daphne realized that this was the remnant of Parrish's heat and that she could follow it. Bursting into a run, she pursued the trail as much speed as she could muster.

* * *

"Alec, you are a werewolf, not a monster." Parrish echoed Scott's mantra to the boy.

"That's good, Parrish, keep it up." Scott struggled, trying to pin Alec's arm down.

"Where's Liam?" Malia struggled again Alec's other arm above a pile of newly broken chains, but the boy was squirmy and quick, like an angry toddler, which made him all the more difficult to keep in place.

"He must have run into a hunter. I'm sure he and Derek can handle it. Malia, I've got him. See if there's anything you can do about the chains."

Malia went through the chains, seeing if anything was salvageable, when Scott noticed her coyote reflexes kick in and her eyes flash blue.

"You've got to be kidding me." She took off into the trees and appeared a minute later holding a surprisingly familiar face.

"Daphne?" Scott's confusion slipped through the strain of him holding down the raging young wolf.

Parrish turned to Malia with a dangerous look in his eye. "Let go of her."

"Are you kidding me? She comes waltzing into a full moon werewolf intervention, and you just want me to let her go? I don't think so."

"Werewolves?" Daphne's mouth fell open.

"I said, _Let. Her. Go._" Parrish's eyes glowed orange, and his whole body quickly became engulfed in flame.

Daphne gasped, dropping her coat as she did so.

Alec took the distraction as opportunity. Wrenching Scott off of him, the boy wolf lunged at Parrish, stabbing his claws into his lower abdomen.

_"NO!" _Daphne shouted.

Malia dropped her immediately to help Scott grab Alec, and without thinking Daphne ran to Parrish's side.

"DAPHNE, DON'T!" Scott shouted, but it was too late. Daphne's clothes began to smolder, but… to Scott's astonishment she appeared to be fine?

Parrish had fallen to the ground, and Daphne knelt beside him, somehow unharmed as his heat singed away at the ends of her clothes.

"What can I do?" she stroked the hellhound's face tenderly.

"_Claw. It got stuck_," he spat through gritted teeth.

Scott watched in awe as Daphne deftly reached into the injured, molten folds of Parrish's flesh and pulled out the werewolf claw.

"What are you?" Scott looked at her in shock.

"I-I don't know."

"Oh yeah, like we believe that." Malia snorted.

Scott furrowed his brow, the suspicion clear in his face. "You don't have to be afraid of us, but we do need answers. So I'm going to ask one more time. What are you?"

Parrish stood up in a rage and roared at Scott. Then wrapping his arms protectively around Daphne, he kissed her without hesitation, and what little that remained of her clothes burned away.

Daphne pulled away after a moment, staring at Hellhound-Parrish with unadulterated awe, and a look Scott recognized all too well. It was the look Malia gave him. The look Allison had once given him. There was no denying it. Whether she realized it herself, Daphne was in love with Parrish, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Alec ripped himself out of Scott's grasp again and lunged for Parrish. Parrish, still focused on Daphne, didn't see the wolf, but Daphne looked Alec's way right before impact. Raising her arm, she shouted, and a pulse of energy burst from her fingertips that hit Alec in the chest, sending him flying into a tree where he collapsed, unconscious.

Daphne paled. "I didn't mean to do that. I'm so sorry." Then she looked down, suddenly realizing she had no clothes on. "I don't understand..." she shrieked. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know what I am. I swear." Tears streaked the ash on her cheeks.

"Daphne, look at me. It's fine." Parrish's eyes had faded back to their normal color. "I've got you."

"I have no clothes," she whispered in a mortified tremor.

Malia rolled her eyes. "Relax, here's your coat. Sheesh, you'd think no one had ever seen you naked before."

Daphne wailed into Parrish's shoulder as he draped the coat protectively around her.

"Wait," realization dawned on Malia. "_Has_ anyone ever seen you naked?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Scott stepped forward tentatively, "But we do need to talk. We need to know what you are, what you can do, if we can trust you."

"I told you, _I don't know what I am_. Please, just leave me alone." Daphne pushed away from Parrish and took off into the woods.

"I'm going after her." Parrish threw on the extra pair of pants he'd brought just in case.

"Wait," Scott stopped him. "Are you sure you can trust her?"

"I trust her a hell of a lot more than I trust you right now."

"I didn't mean to… overwhelm her. We just need answers."

"Overwhelm her? Were you even listening to her heartbeat, Scott? She was terrified, even before you started interrogating her for answers that she didn't have."

"You're right. It could have been better - _I_ should have been better, but you know just as well as I do that she'll be better off if she knows what she is. Tell her I'm sorry."

"Having someone else apologize for you isn't how you become better. You can tell her yourself."

He stared at the ground, feeling repentant.

"And Scott?" Parrish's eyes flashed orange for the briefest moment. "If you ever do anything like that to her again - you'll answer to me."

The hellhound took off after Daphne, leaving Malia and Scott alone to deal with the knocked-out beta.

"That could have gone better." Malia cringed.

Seconds later Derek and Liam emerged from the other direction, looking battered.

"We heard shouting," Derek exhaled in exhaustion. "Is everything all right?"

"What happened?" Scott dashed over to the two of them.

"We ran into an Omega," Liam panted with his hands on his knees. "Tried to talk to him, but the hunters found us first."

"Is he okay?"

Derek shook his head, his hardened expression saying it all. No one spoke for several seconds until Liam lifted his head and appraised the damage.

"What happened here?"

"It's a long story," Malia let out a nervous laugh. "You two are going to want to sit down."

* * *

Parrish couldn't track by scent to the degree the wolves could, but it didn't take him long to find Daphne. She had curled up on the ground in front of his apartment, clad only in her coat and covered in ashes.

"I don't have a key," she muttered lamely, and Parrish felt the words pierce his heart.

Without speaking, he drew the key out of his pocket, opened the door, and led her by the hand inside. He pulled Daphne in front of the kitchen table, lightly dragging his thumb across each blackened spot up her cheekbone and back down to her lips. Feeling her breath tremble, Parrish gave way to the urge he'd felt for days and kissed her soundly.

In hellhound form the contact had been explosive, and this was no different - though thankfully without the fangs and the urge to burst into flame. Daphne's breathing changed the moment their lips met, and she clutched onto his shoulders as he pulled her flush against his body.

Parrish could feel the change inside of him as he and Daphne kissed more deeply - as their clothes fell to the floor - as their bodies entwined. He and the hellhound had become a singular entity long before, but now feelings that had lay dormant were revealed - things he should have already known. The Cerberus for whatever reason had kept his feelings for Daphne McKnight hidden, but now it lay as bare in his conscious as Daphne's body in his arms. The hellhound loved Daphne. And so did Parrish.


	6. Chapter 6: Countdown

**Chapter 6: Countdown**

Daphne awoke the next morning in a tangled heap of blackened sheets and the feel of Parrish's skin against her own.

"Mmm," Parrish smiled at her. "Good morning."

"You're late for work," she grumbled, making no effort to extricate herself.

"I'm never scheduled after a full moon. One of the perks of running with werewolves."

"I would say let's stay in bed all day then," she traced her hand along the contours of his chest, sighing softly, "but these sheets are a disaster, and we need showers."

"Then let's shower," he gazed at her with a ravenous heat behind his eyes, and Daphne felt her insides quiver.

* * *

Stiles sat in Scott's house just after lunch, sputtering. "How did no one think to tell me about this until now?"

"Alec's fine. He's just a little shaken. This could a be a good thing." Scott sat at the table, trying to stay optimistic.

"Oh, right, this could be a good thing. OR I was right all along, and maybe Daphne's more dangerous than all of us."

"I don't think so. And you could tell she cares about Parrish."

"So we're safe as long as Parrish keeps her on a leash. Fantastic."

A worried look suddenly flashed across Scott's features. "I haven't heard from him all day. Have you?"

"No. And I know Lydia hasn't either, because _the first thing_ she would have done is told me."

"I told you, I'm sorry." Scott peered out the window. "And… you're not the only one I need to apologize to."

"Wait, you're going to talk to Daphne? After everything that happened, you're just going to go there alone?"

"No. You're coming with me."

"Great," Stiles grimaced. "Just how I wanted to spend my day."

* * *

Parrish entered the apartment with a basket of freshly cleaned sheets to the sight of Daphne vacuuming the floor, wearing nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that belonged to him.

"You look better in that than I do," he grinned as she shut off the vacuum.

"You're right. You look much better with no shirt at all."

"Is that so?" he laughed. "Maybe we should compare?"

"You first," she folded her arms stubbornly.

He peeled off his shirt in one swift motion, and Daphne got distracted by the view. "I think that means it's your turn."

"Hm, yeah, give me a few seconds to enjoy this." She bit down a grin.

"All right. One—"

She giggled, and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her toward him until she could feel the heat rolling off of his body.

"Two—" he whispered in her ear, enjoying the way her breath tremored. "Three."

She hummed with pleasure, and he began to tug upward on the shirt.

"_Damn it._" He dropped the shirt, and immediately walked over the the laundry basket, fishing out a pair of underwear and shorts and tossing them in her direction.

"What?"

"Scott and Stiles are here."

"Oh!" She slipped on the shorts just as the knock sounded from the door. "I'm going to put a different shirt on."

"Wait." He crossed the room, and bringing his hands to the base of her neck, gave her a kiss that caused her knees to nearly give way.

"Mmm, can't we just tell them to go away?"

"I would love to, but I have the feeling we need to give him a chance to say what he needs to say first."

She bit her bottom lip, "Fine."

While Daphne ran to the bathroom to change, Parrish answered the door.

Scott instantly caught the scent of ash and pheromones. "Whoa."

"What do you want, Scott?"

Stiles took one look at Parrish and rolled his eyes. "Well, first, we'd love for you to put a shirt on. Making the rest of us look bad."

"We're here to apologize," said Scott, ignoring Stiles.

Daphne exited the bathroom and eyed the pair warily. "Is the boy okay?"

"He's fine. We actually came to talk to you."

She approached them silently and took Parrish's hand in hers.

"I'm sorry for thinking you had ulterior motives. I was only looking after my pack," he said, looking at Parrish, "and my friends."

"I understand," she nodded. "It's one of the only things about this whole situation that I do understand."

"We know someone who might be able to tell us more about who you are. Would you be okay with that?"

"I want answers just as much as everyone else."

"Good. I'll set it up. Are you still going to be staying here?"

"Yes," Parrish answered immediately.

"Am I?" Daphne turned to him in surprise.

"We haven't talked about it, but… you could live here… if you want."

Her mouth fell into an 'o' shape, and then she exhaled a laugh. "I'll be _here_." A broad smile etched itself on her face, and she sighed happily. "_I'll be here."_

* * *

A few days later Daphne sat on a metal table in the veterinary clinic beside Parrish, Dr. Deaton, Scott, and Malia shortly after the clinic had closed.

"Are Stiles and Miss Martin coming?" Dr. Deaton checked his watch.

"They just got here." Scott was focused on his wolf hearing, and sure enough, two seconds later the door to the clinic burst open.

"Sorry we're late," Stiles shouted. "Car trouble."

Lydia appraised Daphne with an increased degree of scrutiny. "I hear you're moving in with Jordan permanently."

Daphne blushed with a smile. "That's true."

"That's wonderful," the banshee smiled saccharinely. "Hurt him in any way, and I promise they won't be able to find your body."

"Lydia." Parrish glared.

"Relax, Jordan. I know I'll never have to resort to such drastic measures."

Dr. Deaton raised a brow. "Can we get started now?"

"Yes," Scott started. "I… think she's a hellhound."

"No way," Stiles shook her head. "Look at her. There's no way she's a supernatural guardian."

"Rude." Malia smacked him in the arm, and Stiles winced audibly.

"She was immune to Jordan's fire. She reached into his side and pulled out Alec's claw without even flinching."

"I'm going to side with Mr. Stilinski on this one," Deaton interjected. "Scott, you said she was in the hospital for three days with sustained minor injuries. If Miss McKnight was a hellhound, she wouldn't have needed the hospital for something so ordinary as an automobile accident."

"So let's set her on fire then," Malia mused.

Parrish growled, tightening his hold on Daphne's arm.

"All right, Daph, can you calm your boyfriend down, please?" Stiles piped in nervously. "You might be immune to hellhound fire, but the rest of us don't have that luxury."

"I'll do it." Daphne gulped. "Burn my arm."

"You can't be serious," Parrish balked.

"It would be a small burn," Deaton reassured. "One that would heal on its own within a few days."

"It's Daphne's decision," he finally relented. "But I don't like this."

"I've got a lighter," Stilles pulled a silver Zippo from his pocket.

"Okay," Daphne agreed, squeezing Jordan's hand a little more tightly.

"Deputy, you're going to have to leave the room." Deaton urged. "The human side of you may have agreed to go along with this experiment, but the moment the hellhound within you senses Daphne is in pain, you may be difficult to control.

"Fine." Parrish left the room, leaving Daphne at the mercy of the others, but he didn't look pleased in the slightest.

"Scott, Malia, I'll need the both of you to hold Miss McKnight's arms down in the event that a supernatural sense of self-preservation manifests itself. Daphne, are you ready?"

"Not really, but do it anyway."

"Very well. We'll burn the arm for five seconds, starting now. _One."_

Daphne screamed instantly as the flame melted into her forearm.

"_Two."_

She closed her jaw, trying to muffle the shrieking somehow.

"_Three."_

A sharp stinging sensation lanced through her nerves.

"_Four."_

Tears welled in her eyes as it continued to sear into her flesh.

"_Five."_

Parrish practically broke the door off its hinges as he reentered the room.

"Wait!" Scott shouted. "We have to see if it heals."

"I'm gonna be sick," Stiles recoiled as the burned skin blistered.

"It's not healing," Scott said after several seconds. "I don't understand. Her clothes were on fire. How is she not immune?"

"Because this wasn't hellhound fire," Lydia said matter-of-factly. "There's obviously a connection between the two of them we don't understand."

"Miss McKnight, I apologize for causing you unnecessary anguish."

"Jordan," she breathed, tears now freely flowing down her cheeks.

Parrish was by her side in an instant. "What now? And it'd better not involve any more experiments."

Dr. Deaton shook his head. "No more experiments. Scott, there's an ice pack in the back. Please get it."

Scott nodded and took off.

"We need to go back and discover the connection between Deputy Parrish and Miss McKnight. Daphne," he said, turning to her with a calming demeanor. "Hellhounds are guardians of the supernatural, but they're also historically known as guardians of the underworld and protectors of death. Is there anything at all about yourself that might explain why you bear such a strong connection with one?"

"I'm not sure. I was adopted, and I had that thing where I feel cold all the time, I'm not sure what else though."

"Adopted? Do you know who your birth parents are?"

"I have no idea. I was found in the desert, abandoned in a cave. Archaeologists found me."

"I remember reading about that," Lydia remarked, doing a quick search on her phone. "Twenty-four years ago. Abandoned baby found by an excavation team near a place called Devil's Canyon near the Mexico border."

"Well, that's not creepy at all." Stiles interrupted. "You're not the devil by any chance, are you?"

Daphne glared. "No, I am not the devil."

Scott came in with the ice pack, which Daphne gratefully accepted. "What about the cold thing?" he asked. "You were wearing coats all the time, but I haven't seen any in a while."

She blushed. "I haven't really needed one since staying with Jordan."

"Fascinating," Deaton mused. "Cold intolerance with no discovered diagnosis is unusual. How long did you experience this coldness before meeting Parrish."

"Four and a half years, give or take."

Deaton eyed her curiously. "Do you happen to remember the exact date?"

"September 13th. I was visiting my Aunt in New York for a wedding. It was the middle of the night, and I felt a chill like I'd never felt before. I assumed it was because of a cold front, but it never went away."

"What's wrong?" Scott turned to Deaton, sensing his concern.

"September 13th, 2011 is an oddly specific date, and one you ought to remember."

"I remember it." Lydia said with a glassy stare. "It was the day Scott, Stiles, and Allison reactivated the Nemeton."

"I remember it too," Parrish shook his head in disbelief. "It was the middle of the day in Afghanistan - the day the hellhound chose me as a vessel."

"That can't be a coincidence," Deaton contemplated, "Somehow the Nemeton affected two people far from Beacon Hills at the same moment."

"Stiles, give me the bestiary," Lydia demanded. He handed it to her, and she began scanning each page furiously.

"How is any of this possible?" Malia frowned. "How did the hellhound get trapped in the Nemeton in the first place?"

Deaton turned to Parrish with an inquisitive expression.

"I don't know," Parrish admitted. "But I think the hellhound knew Daphne before I did."

Daphne whipped around to face Parrish. "What?"

"When the hellhound and I merged in the Argents' ice chamber, we were one. Our thoughts were the same… his life became mine, and I understood him, but something about you has me remembering things I didn't know before. Feelings the hellhound had beneath the surface."

"Did you feel like you'd met me before when you found the car crash?" Daphne looked up from the ice pack.

"All I knew was that I wanted to get to know you. It wasn't until we kissed the first time that I had any sense of it."

Malia looked puzzled. "So, wait a minute. How could a hellhound trapped in a Nemeton for who knows how long know a girl who was born twenty-three years ago?"

"Because they're from the same place," Lydia held open the bestiary. "She's a lampad. Or at least she descends from one."

"It's an intriguing theory," Deaton nodded. "Lampads are nymphs from the underworld. Servants to the Greek goddess, Hecate."

Parrish suddenly cried out in pain and fell to the ground, holding his head.

"_Jordan!_" Daphne ducked down beside him. "Jordan. What can I do?"

Parrish looked up with a flaming glow in his eyes. "_Help me remember._"

"Parrish and the hellhound _are still _one," Scott realized. "But the hellhound doesn't remember… so neither does Parrish."

"Can you do that thing with your claws and enter the hellhound's memories?" Malia offered.

"I don't know how it would work on a hellhound, but I could try."

"_Do it."_

Deaton brought over a chair, and Parrish sat down, his eyes still aflame.

Daphne knelt in front of him and clutched his forearms tightly. "I know Scott and I aren't the best of friends, but try not to set him on fire, okay?" She smiled, kissing his lips gently.

"On the count of three." Scott took a deep breath. "One. Two. Three."

He thrust his claws into the back of Parrish's neck, and clutched the other end of the chair in agony, the wolf's eyes turning from a deep red to a bright orange.

"_SCOTT!" _Stiles and Malia ran to help.

"Remember, you can't sever the connection from the outside," Deaton cautioned. "We have to trust that Scott knows what he can handle."

"Daphne." Lydia knelt beside her with a troubled expression. "She's bleeding."

Daphne's arms were still linked with Parrish's, his claws digging into the bottom of her forearms, and she too was unmoving and inert.

"Wait, so she's part of the link too somehow?" Stiles waved his hand in front of her eyes to check for a response, but none came."

"All we can do now is hope that the three of them can withstand the connection long enough to find the information they seek," Deaton swallowed.

Malia frowned, "How long is that going to take?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

* * *

Scott found himself in a white corridor, reminiscent of the one where he found Stiles and the Nogitsune two years prior.

The Nemeton grew from the ground in the middle of the room, surrounded by flames, and Scott caught sight of Parrish unconscious in the center.

"Scott." Daphne appeared beside him.

"Daphne?"

"Why am I here?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm glad you are. You see that stump in the middle of the room? That's the Nemeton. And Parrish is in there."

"What do I need to do?"

"Wake him up if you can."

Daphne approached the fire and touched it tentatively. Then she passed through and ran to Parrish's side.

"Jordan."

No response.

"Jordan Parrish. Wake up."

Daphne looked at his body. His veins glowed, as if molten lava ran through each one.

"Cerberus," she whispered. "You need to wake up."

She leaned down, pressing her lips to his, and the hellhound's eyes flew open. The fire vanished, and the room grew dark - now a cave with pits of fire.

Scott ran beside them. "Where is this place?"

"I think it's the hellhound's memories."

Scenes flashed around them, playing out in rapid succession. Scott had to use his Alpha powers to catch most of it.

"It's the underworld," he breathed to himself.

He caught glimpses of Halwyn, Parrish, and a third hellhound he didn't know, and quickly realized that they made up the three heads from the legends.

Then he spotted a young woman in red robes, and his mouth fell open.

"Daphne."

He looked over and saw that she was just as caught up in the vision as he was.

More of Parrish's past life flooded around them, becoming more precarious as time passed, until all he heard were the sounds of hellish screams, and the hellhound was trapped within the Nemeton.

* * *

Scott inhaled sharply from within Deaton's lab and carefully removed his claws from Parrish's neck.

"Scott, thank God." Stiles patted him on the back with a relieved exhale.

Daphne and Parrish had also awoken, and Deaton immediately helped the former tend to her new wounds.

"I'm sorry," Parrish looked at his hands with regret.

"_You're_ sorry," she uttered in barely a whisper. "I'm the reason you were trapped in the Nemeton. This is my doing."

"What happened?" Lydia asked.

"Perhaps it would be best if a third party observer tells us," Deaton suggested.

"Lydia was right," Scott began. "There was an underworld. Parrish's hellhound was there, even Halwyn's hellhound was there for a while, only they looked different, like spirits covered in fire almost. And Daphne was there. She was a servant to a goddess or something."

"Hecate?" Deaton asked.

"Yeah, I think so. But Daphne and Parrish's hellhound were friends. Really close friends by the look of it. Until…"

"Until the third hellhound told Hecate that I was in love with one of the Lampads," Parrish looked to Daphne with an inscrutable expression.

"I didn't know that part." Daphne flushed. "I just knew he was in trouble. They were going to make him drink from the Lethe and banish him to Acheron—"

"I'm sorry, the what and the what?" Stiles looked at the pair quizzically.

"The Lethe was known as the river of forgetfulness," Deaton answered, "And Acheron is said to be the river of pain."

"Oh, great. Is that all…" Stiles grimaced.

"I tried to help him escape and start over. He had already drank from the Lethe and didn't know who I was. I promised to help him, and I hid his soul in one of the inactive Nemetons of the the human world to keep him safe."

"I didn't see anything after that," Scott admitted.

"I did." Daphne peered at the ground without blinking. "Before I could free him, I was banished too, but I escaped."

"How did you escape?" Deaton pressed.

"Through a rift in Elysium. I must have been reborn, because I don't remember anything else after that."

Stiles whistled, "Just another day in Beacon Hills."

"He was trapped in the Nemeton for twenty years because of me."

Parrish shook his head. "You saved me. I'll take twenty years trapped in a tree over an eternity in a river of pain any day."

Malia narrowed her eyes. "So were Daphne and the hellhound already a thing, and Parrish just got caught in the middle of it somehow?"

"No!" Daphne stood up fretfully. "It never even occurred to me."

"Hellhound friendzone." A mock-pained expression struck Stiles's face. "I feel for you, Parrish."

Deaton glanced between Daphne and Parrish. "Perhaps that is a conversation best suited to a private discussion. It's getting late. I think it best if we all go home and ponder this new information."

They all exited the animal clinic, going their separate ways, but Daphne stood outside Parrish's car, visibly troubled.

"This doesn't change anything, Daphne. The way I feel about you hasn't changed." He approached her cautiously. "Has it changed for you?"

"No." She brought her hand to his cheek and traced along his jawline. "But I don't think I could have felt this way about you without both sides of you. Jordan Parrish _and_ the Hellhound. Is that wrong of me?"

"It's not wrong. I am the hellhound now. We're kind of a package deal."

She smiled, but lingering pain from being burned and stabbed in the arms made her draw back with a wince.

"Let me see it," He took the arm with the burn, peeled back the bandages, and caused a small flame to appear in his palm. Then dragging the flame across the burn and each cut, Daphne watched in wonder as they healed one after another.

"Hellhound fire… heals me?"

He repeated the motion with her other arm, "I knew that it wouldn't hurt you. I figured it was worth a shot."

She touched her arms where the wounds had been seconds ago. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"If I said I didn't know it, would you tell me again?"

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Let's go home, and I can tell you how amazing you are. Again—" she kissed his neck, "—and again—" she kissed along his jaw, "—and again." She bit gently on his bottom lip before tracing it with her tongue.

Parrish pulled back with a moan, opening the passenger door with every ounce of willpower he had, and together the drove back to the apartment.

* * *

**_Thanks for the kind reviews, favorites, and follows. _****_-V_**


	7. Chapter 7: On Behalf of Halwyn

**Chapter 7: On Behalf of Halwyn**

Several weeks passed, and another full moon approached. Scott had accepted Daphne as part of their group, but others were less willing. Derek stared at her inscrutably as she was shown their hideout. Parrish promised meet them there after his shift.

"She can help with Alec," Scott reasoned with the older werewolf.

"She has no control of her abilities. Abilities we don't understand. She doesn't even know what she can do. It's been two full moons, and she's made no progress with anyone."

Daphne scowled. "I have to work in the morning, so I can't be out too late. I don't have to be out in the woods though. I can just be background support."

Derek looked unamused. "Until you think Parrish is in danger and go after him without a plan—"

"Derek," Scott warned.

"—and without knowing anything about what you're getting into."

Scott faced him sternly. "What happened to Alec was self-defense."

Defensive was certainly how Daphne felt in that moment.

"Self-defense that would have been unnecessary if she hadn't been there."

"That's enough, Derek."

"I'm going to take a walk." Daphne frowned. She knew he was only trying to protect the pack, but she didn't know how to prove herself to the beta, and it frustrated her to no end.

"I'll go with you," Scott offered.

"No. I'll call a lyft or something."

"Uber's the better option in Beacon Hills," Derek said pointedly. He wanted her to leave, and she felt suffocated in his presence at the moment, so she was happy to oblige.

She was two blocks down the road about to order an Uber when a man she didn't recognize joined her on the opposing sidewalk. She stopped and stared at him for several seconds, hoping to scare him off or gauge his intent, but he stared back, unblinking.

Five seconds passed, and then she saw it. A flicker of orange behind his eyes.

_The third hellhound._

He took a single step into the street in her direction, and she bolted toward a hopefully more populated road. He was on her in seconds, grabbing her forearm and slamming her into the rough brick behind.

His hand seared into her arm, and she spat in his face. "You're the reason Cerberus was banished."

"That's all you recall? Do you remember so little of me?"

"I know everything I need to know. You hated him enough to destroy his life." Daphne writhed with gritted teeth.

"Destruction was never my intention."

"Oh, really… because none of this would have happened if you had just kept your observations to yourself."

"A hellhound is neither good nor evil. We are guardians of the supernatural. Forces of balance. It was my obligation to inform of his wrongdoing." He loosened his hold. "Are you not pleased at the outcome? Is not his _assimilation_ with the deputy to your advantage?"

"Don't pretend to understand what it means to love someone," she growled.

"I am Orthrus, brother of Cerberus. If you trust nothing else, trust that I did not seek his downfall."

"You bastard. You let him rot in a tree stump for twenty years and just now decide to pay a visit?"

"Your emotions regarding the past are of little concern to me, and I was up to this point unaware of his previous refuge. As far as the gods are concerned your lifetimes on earth will serve as banishment. I am here on Halwyn's behalf."

"Halwyn? But he died." Lydia and Malia had relayed the sad tale.

"Hellhounds are amortal. He resides within the underworld and will soon rejoin the Wild Hunt."

"Alive…" she breathed. Lydia would be happy to hear it.

"As you are a part of the pack that defeated the Anuk-ite, he wishes you to know that you are in danger."

"I'm not a part of Scott's pack. I just barely got past the awkward friend phase."

"The Alpha sees you and Cerberus as more than that."

This stunned Daphne. "But how am I in danger?"

"All I know with certainty is that your life hangs in the balance. You were reborn in human frame - a frame that can evolve given the right circumstances."

"I can be… a lampad?"

"You will not be found in Hecate's favor again, but you are still a nymph."

"I don't know what that means anymore."

"Discover it. Your life hangs in the balance."

He burst into flame, and Daphne wriggled away before her clothes burned in tandem. He disappeared among the flames, and every pent up feeling poured out of her. She sank to the ground, letting weeks buried emotions and tears pool onto the collar of her shirt.

Derek observed a part of Daphne and the hellhound's confrontation from the end of the block. In spite of not trusting Daphne to hold her own in a pack of shapeshifters he wasn't about to let her get herself killed. If what the hellhound said was true, she and Parrish were part of the pack whether they consciously accepted it or not. As she climbed into an Uber and disappeared, he realized that he would protect her when push came to shove.

* * *

Doug Graham stared at his ex girlfriend in silence from a parked car as she exited a different vehicle and stepped into the apartment complex in which she lived.

So this was where she'd been hiding. Location tags were a beautiful thing, but public records were better. She'd gotten a job at the local art museum as a curator, and her name had been added to the deed of an apartment she shared with the local deputy. God bless the internet. It didn't take long for him to find exactly where she lived and worked, and given the week, he'd be able to fill in the gaps. He deserved to know why she bailed on him over Spring Break and what made this _Jordan Parrish_ so much better. He lifted a bottle of whiskey to his lips and stumbled out of his car toward the nearest motel. He'd see her again soon.

* * *

Lydia sat in her apartment in Cambridge with a glazed expression on her face. She heard the sound over and over, unrelenting on a loop. Metal scraping against metal in an eerie screech, like a cat's claws scraping against a chalkboard.

Her phone buzzed, drawing her from the trance. It was a text from Daphne. _Halwyn is alive._ Relief seeped into her veins, and the premonition was shelved in the recesses of her subconscious. She couldn't worry about every warning of death around her, or she'd go mad. She'd savor this moment of Halwyn's life and not worry about death until tomorrow.

* * *

_**Don't worry, Parrish will be in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! -V**_


	8. Chapter 8: Carbonite

**Chapter 8: Carbonite**

Two nights later Parrish had Daphne pinned against the wall as low music played in the background, harmonizing with their heavy breathing.

She pulled up on his shirt desperately, and Parrish pulled back with an amused smirk.

"Daphne, I… _love_ this, but every time I bring up Orthrus, you start kissing me. Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?"

"I'm sure." She pulled off her top in rebuttal to his hesitancy, and his reserve melted away as he lifted her by her thighs and relocated to the futon.

She pushed Orthrus as far from her mind as possible as her body fell in rhythm with Jordan's. She had told him immediately about the other hellhound - his _brother_. Apparently Scott had gotten an earful when Parrish met them at the warehouse but she had already left.

It wasn't something she wanted to think about. _Mortality_. It was clear that Parrish could live out eternity here indefinitely, but her life might end any moment. _Hanging in the balance._

She needed the distraction. She needed Jordan's body against hers, his mouth claiming her own, the heat running through his veins.

He slowed, breathing heavily over her body before kissing her lips gently one more time. "You sure you're going to be all right tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm going to be with Stiles. We can watch Star Wars again."

"You've already watched it three times. I can stay if you want."

"Correction. We only watched the original trilogy three times. Besides, you have bigger problems than a bored girlfriend. The hunters are too close to finding Alec. It's just another full moon. I'll be fine."

"I…" He gazed at her in an indecipherable way, but the words caught in the back of his throat. "I know you'll be fine."

Somehow she knew those weren't the words he'd been planning to say.

* * *

10 p.m.

Jordan had already left to be with the werewolves, and Daphne had found an old Science Fiction book on the bookshelf to read in the meantime before leaving to meet Stiles.

She cuddled with the plush three-headed dog Parrish had given her months before and read for several minutes when a knock sounded from the door.

"Stiles, I said I'd meet you at the house!"

She set the book down, shaking her head as she approached the door.

* * *

"_We'll hang out_, she said. _It'll be fun_, she said." Stiles grumbled to himself as he walked down the hall toward Parrish's apartment. "Yeah, well, it's no fun waiting for someone who never shows up!"

He lifted his hand to knock when he noticed the door was already cracked.

"Daph?" He tentatively pushed open the door. "No, no, no, no, no… Daphne, please tell me this is your idea of a joke."

No answer.

Chairs had been thrown across the room. Books were strewn across the floor. A skillet dripped a viscous sauce onto the table.

Stiles inspected the skillet, and thrust himself back with a repulsed whimper. "Yeah, no, that's blood..."

Holding his breath with a grimace, he wrested himself from the table and dialed Scott's number.

"_Stiles? What's wrong?"_

"Please tell me Daphne's with you."

"_She's not with _you_?"_

"She never showed up, and she didn't answer her phone. I went to Parrish's apartment, and the whole place has been trashed, and—" his voice cracked, "—I'm pretty sure that's not ketchup on the table."

An roar echoed on the other end of the line that Stiles was certain belonged to Parrish.

"_We're on our way._"

* * *

"She's not answering." The hellhound was close to crushing the cell in his hand.

Stiles was on the phone in the hallway talking to the Sheriff while Derek and Scott carefully analyzed the wreckage around the apartment.

"This isn't her blood." Derek said calmly.

"Are you sure? You and Daphne aren't exactly on the best of terms," Parrish accused.

Derek growled, "I know my pack."

Scott's eyebrows raised at Derek's admission, but Parrish shook his head. "I already told you, we're not a part of the pack."

"Your brother seemed to think differently. It's the reason Halwyn had him warn Daphne that she was in danger."

"_Fine,"_ Parrish relented, "Then whose blood is it? It'll take days to run DNA on it at the station."

"We'll find her." Stiles entered the room. "Dad's got extra units out. Liam and Malia have Alec, right?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded. "They went to the Animal Clinic. He's been doing a lot better tonight."

"Okay - uh, Parrish, she can sense your heat. Can't you do it the other way around? Sense the cold or something?"

"I don't know. I can try."

Derek siphoned some of the blood onto a napkin and sealed it in a ziplock bag. "Scott and I will go after this scent. We'll find her."

"Why the change of heart?" Scott asked with a curious expression. "Two days ago you couldn't wait for her to leave."

"Hearing the other hellhound say that she was a part of the pack made me realize something."

"And what's that," Scott pressed.

"I've been an asshole," he stated, unblinking. "Let's go. We're wasting time."

Scott and Derek left the room, leaving Stiles alone with the hellhound.

"So, uh, Lydia would be better at this, but seeing as she's at school, it looks like you're stuck with me. I don't know exactly how your hellhound senses work. Can you sense if she's about to die?"

"I don't know, Lydia was always there somehow. I don't find people who are about to die." Parrish turned to him with a pained expression. "I find the supernatural beings who are already dead."

"Yeah, well that's not an option." Stiles paced around the apartment. "_Think_."

"That's it." Parrish stood up, an idea forming in his mind. "Thinking too much is the problem."

His eyes flashed orange, and Stiles jumped back. "Whoa, how about we don't burst into flames until we get outside, all right?"

Parrish left the apartment without another word, and Stiles groaned from behind. "OKAY. DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME. I'LL JUST LOCK UP THEN. I'LL CATCH UP..."

* * *

The smell of gasoline and whiskey woke Daphne first. The ground rumbled beneath her, and she cracked open her eyes.

A car. A _fast moving car._

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

Fear swelled through her entire body, and she remembered who had been at the door.

"What do you want, Doug?"

He threw his head back in sickening laughter, exposing the dried blood caked on his jaw - the jaw she had probably broken with Jordan's skillet. The car swerved dangerously, and he laughed again.

"I just want some answers, sweetheart."

A chill washed over her, and she could tell they were driving well away from Beacon Hills, Parrish's warmth slowly spilling away with each passing mile marker. "I'm not your sweetheart."

Laughter bellowed from him again, and the car swerved once more. "I missed you."

"You've been drinking."

"Had to take the edge off that hit to the face. You got me good."

"You should slow down a little."

"So your little cop boyfriend can catch up?" he guffawed. "I always knew you were stupid." He pressed his foot on the gas, and the speedometer crept upward toward the '90'.

She felt the urge to panic and possibly scream, but she thought of the warning from Orthrus and froze. Her life was hanging in the balance at that very moment, and if something didn't change, she would die.

Daphne tried to focus her thoughts on Jordan instead. She yearned for him. She missed his heat, his smile, his gentle strength. It warmed her to think of him. It was almost as if she could feel his presence…

_Doug began to scream._

* * *

_***Ten minutes earlier***_

Stiles struggled to keep up with Parrish, although he could wager a guess where the hellhound was taking them. Sure enough, a few minutes later they reached the Nemeton.

"Great. Now what?" Stiles panted in exhaustion.

"We find her."

"Yeah… got that. Just kind of wondering the _how_, but you just… go ahead and do your thing." Parrish began removing his clothes, and Stiles coughed exaggeratedly. "Okay then. Hellhound time. Yeah."

Thank God Parrish had those military grade fireproof shorts...

* * *

Parrish sat atop the stump of the Nemeton and shifted into his fiery form. He felt the air and its crispness. The flowing coolness of the trees and the wind. He felt a mild, sweaty heat from Stiles. Then he thought of Daphne. She'd never felt cold to the touch, but she did need his warmth. She probably needed it at that very moment.

Suddenly he knew what needed to be done. Focusing every thought on Daphne, he poured as much hellhound fire as he could into the Nemeton itself. The Nemeton absorbed it, and then… nothing happened.

"So that was cool." Stiles offered after several seconds. "How about we go to the station and start searching with everyone else now?"

"This will work. It almost felt like I was able to reach her."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"For her to reach back."

"Oh," Stiles paused. "And if she doesn't?"

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "Then she's going to die."

Parrish knelt on the Nemeton in an almost reverent manner. He could feel his hellhound fire percolating within the roots of the tree.

Waiting.

Minutes passed, and Parrish knew what Stiles was thinking - that they should be out with others, using every resource. He was about to give up, when the flames suddenly burst into the sky like a reverse meteor, heading North toward the interstate.

"Call Scott. We have to follow it."

"Heh… yeah, sure." Stiles began dialing Scott's number and looked to Parrish, sputtering slightly. "No big deal, we can talk about the fact that you can HURL LITERAL BALLS OF FIRE MILES INTO THE AIR ANOTHER D— Oh, hey, Scott…"

* * *

Three concurrent thoughts entered Daphne's mind at once: The warmth she felt as she grasped onto the thought of Jordan Parrish, her best friend - her Cerberus; the high pitched scream Doug emitted as his beer bottle rolled under the brake and he lost control of the car; and realization that she was about to die.

The car slammed into the side railing and began to topple several feet into a gully. Her head slammed into the rear window, and she wished she had been a better nymph. She couldn't turn into a tree like dryad or breathe underwater like a naiad. All she could do was feel Parrish's heat.

She wished for that heat now, but as the hood of the car exploded, flames began to engulf the car, and Daphne would have laughed at the cruel irony if she'd had more strength. The fire lapped at her legs, and the pain jolted through her body until all she could do was hope that death would take her sooner. The air filled with smoke, and she struggled to breathe.

The vague memory of Orthrus flitted through her thoughts. Cerberus would feel sad when she was gone, but the pain grew less and less until nothing hurt anymore, and finally she felt like she was floating. The last thing she heard was a faraway explosion in the remaining shreds of consciousness, and then the world sifted into blackness.

* * *

Scott and Derek made it to the scene of the crash before any police had been called.

"It's a fifteen foot drop," Derek peered into the gully with a somber expression. "There's no heartbeat in the car, Scott."

"Don't." Scott scanned the area frantically. "If something happened to her, Parrish will never forgive himself."

Derek felt piercing regret with the way he'd treated her and knew he'd never forgive himself either. "We'll keep looking."

Parrish and Stiles pulled up a few minutes into the search.

"What have you found?"

Scott approached the hellhound carefully. "The car fell down into that bank. There's no pulse from anywhere inside the car. We're trying to see check for tracks to see if she escaped somehow. The car's still too hot to touch. We were hoping you could—"

"She's not dead, Scott. I would've felt it." He turned to Stiles gravely. "Run the plates. See who was driving."

Parrish lowered himself into the gully and pried off the passenger door. A single charred body occupied the driver's seat.

Stiles called down into the chasm. "The car belonged to a Douglas Graham from Seattle. Look, are you guys sure this is even the right car?"

"It's the right car. Doug was Daphne's ex boyfriend." Anger seeped into Parrish's veins at the thought of him harming Daphne.

There were no other bodies in the car - only Doug's scorched remains and a mound of ash in the back seat.

Parrish let out an unholy roar that shook the car and the ground beneath. Then he fell against the top of the car hopelessly.

Several seconds passed, and then he heard it. A single heartbeat. Derek and Scott must have heard it too, because they rushed to the edge of the draw and leapt down beside him.

Parrish ripped the back door off of it's hinges and dusted the ashes off of the mysterious mound of dirt in the back seat.

He shook his head in disbelief. "It's her." She seemed to be encased in stone, curled up as tightly as possible, but the details were obscured beneath the additional layers of rock.

"We should get her to Deaton," said Derek.

The three hoisted her out of the deep trench, and Parrish carried her toward the car.

Stiles fixed his gaze on the the bundle in Parrish's arms and stared dumbly. "And how is a boulder going to help us find Daphne?"

Scott cleared his throat. "That _is_ Daphne."

"The boulder is Daphne," Stiles balked. "Come on, you're kidding me. The boulder?" his expression faltered. "Daph?"

"Stiles, you're driving."

"_I'm _driving?" Stiles spat in shock. "No, no, no. You don't understand. The _sheriff,_ also known as MY DAD, made me swear on pain of death never to drive one of these again."

"Please," Parrish tightened his hold on Daphne's frozen body.

Stiles's resolve wavered at his friend's broken expression. "Okay, yeah, of course I will."

"I've got you," Parrish whispered to her lifeless form, climbing into the back of the cruiser, praying that everything would be okay.

* * *

It was never a good sign when Deaton said he'd "_never seen anything like this"_, but there they were. Malia, Liam, and Alec crammed into the room with the others, all curious what had befallen their friend.

"There appears to be several layers of porous rock encasing her body." Deaton examined every angle. "Ironically, I would have sought out Daphne's opinion on the exact mineral structure, given the focus of her degree and passion for archeology and geology."

"Yeah, not helpful," Stiles grimaced.

"I _can _tell you that this type of mineral isn't native to Northern California."

Malia squinted. "It's like a giant egg."

Stiles turned sharply toward her. "Egg. Or a cocoon."

"Yeah… that's what I m—"

"Daphne said Parrish's hellhound fire healed her once." The cogs were turning in his head as he swung around. "We were watching Return of Jedi a few weeks ago. Leia had just broken Han out of the Carbonite."

"I'm sorry, what?" Malia scrunched her eyes.

"Star Wars! I swear, none of you know what you're missing."

"Go on, Stiles," Deaton urged.

"We were talking about the possibility of being encased like that, and if there was any way that it would be able preserve life, and she said Jordan's hellhound fire felt just like that. Like a cocoon."

Parrish looked at the blackened rock around Daphne incredulously. "You're saying I did this?"

"I'm _saying_ the Nemeton sent a ball of your hellhound fire barreling off into space to help you find her. What if she's in a cocoon of hellhound fire right now? _Healing._"

Liam let out a puff of air, "Then I'd say your girlfriend cocoon is a ticking time bomb, and we should get the hell out of here before the whole clinic explodes."

Deaton exhaled nervously. "That would certainly explain the ash you described, as well as the volcanic appearance of the rock itself. And if that's the case, I suggest we find a less combustible building."

Parrish's eyes widened. "The Nemeton. That's the safest place."

Scott and Derek scrambled to help get Daphne outside.

"I've got her." Parrish cradled Daphne in his arms.

Derek nodded. "Call if you need anything."

Parrish jogged carefully into the woods with Daphne in tow for several minutes before finally reaching the clearing. Then he set her enclosed body carefully onto the Nemeton and sat by the roots in silence.

She wasn't dead, of that much he was certain, but there was no way of knowing how long she'd be trapped within her stone bindings. _What if she never escaped?_

* * *

With the help of the pack - which Parrish had finally accepted he and Daphne were part of - Daphne was never alone. Derek stayed almost as often as Parrish himself, and the hellhound was grateful.

A week had passed, and Parrish had just arrived to relieve Derek of his "shift" when he heard a frantic heartbeat fluttering within the rock, and a deep cracking sound creaked from within the boulder.

"Call Scott." Parrish paced toward the Nemeton.

Stiles had been right. Rivulets of fire formed in the cracks of the stone. The pressure built in the seams until it burst, igniting the air in flame, and sending projectiles of flaming rock in all directions. And there in the center sat Daphne, raising her head ever so slowly.

Her hair had lengthened and turned a deep ashen black color. It covered much of her exposed body, but Derek still had the good sense to turn away.

"Daphne?" Parrish approached her tentatively. "Do you remember me?"

She nodded, and his heart warmed. He grabbed a blanket from his bag and draped it protectively around her.

"How long?" she asked.

"Seven days."

"And Doug?"

"He's gone."

She nodded and looked around thoughtfully. "I should have died too."

"But you didn't."

"Scott and the others are on their way," Derek called out to the pair.

"Scott's pack," Daphne murmured softly. "Our pack."

Parrish clasped her hand. "If that's what you want."

"I want... to have clothes on."

"Of course. I have some here."

She changed quietly behind a tree and returned to the Nemeton to sit. After two minutes Derek approached them, breaking the silence.

"You're quiet. That's unusual for you."

"And you still have no trouble speaking your mind," she half-smiled not meeting his eyes. Her gaze fell to the roots of the Nemeton. "I'm having trouble finding the words. It feels like much longer than a week."

"What happened while you were trapped?"

"I remembered things—" She swept her hand in front of them, grinning as the leaves scattered around. "—Nature spirit things I'd forgotten."

Parrish clung to hope. "Does this mean you're no longer in danger?"

"I can die," she said matter of factly. "But I imagine it's much more difficult now."

That was a relief to Parrish. "Daphne, there's something I need to say to you."

She rose quickly, scanning the area around them. "I'm sorry, but we have to leave this place now."

"What's wrong?" Derek turned to the pair.

"Scott won't find us. The Nemeton is shrouded."

Jordan felt it too. "Something's wrong."

"Our pack needs us."

* * *

Scott gauged the scene before his eyes. The hunters had finally found them. They were outnumbered three to one with guns that Scott could see carried wolfsbane bullets.

"I thought you would have learned the first time, Monroe."

"I'm highly motivated, Scott. And I've learned a few things since our last visit, like the art of compromise. If you give us the boy, we'll let the rest of you go."

"Even if you weren't lying, we'd never hand over an innocent to be tortured and slaughtered by monsters like you."

"You think _we're _the monsters?" she laughed.

"I think you were dealt a bad hand, and now you're consumed by so much fear and hate that you're willing to kill anyone who stands in your way."

"You're right, Scott. Myself and everyone with me. It's too bad you brought claws to a gunfight."

"This doesn't have to be a fight at all, Monroe."

"You know there was never a chance for bargaining. Why are you stalling?"

A smile spread across the Alpha's face. "I was waiting for back-up."

Monroe's eyes widened. "_SHOOT THEM NOW!"_

Scott expected the hellhound fire that made everyone drop their guns. What he didn't expect was the rush of wind that followed, knocking every one of Monroe's men to the ground, many of them falling unconscious.

Derek grabbed Monroe, holding her to keep those still conscious at bay.

"_YOU'RE ALL MONSTERS - WITH YOUR CHEAP TRICKS, AND YOUR CLAWS AND FANGS. YOU'RE DISGUSTING."_

"I think you'll find the law defines monsters a little differently than that." Sheriff Stilinski surrounded Monroe's men with his squad.

"Yes!" Stiles fist pumped.

"It's over, Monroe. Surrender peacefully."

"Never."

"Parrish, I know your shift is over, but give us a hand, will ya?"

"Happy to, sir."

Before joining them he turned to Daphne, kissing her passionately on the lips. "I love you."

She inhaled happily. "I know."

Stiles chuckled, and the others eyed him with confusion. "Sorry, heh, that was from Star Wars, episod… you know what, nevermind."

Daphne pressed her lips to Parrish's one more time. "I love you too."

Scott observed the differences in the nymph. Her heart rate fluttered faster than usual, and her black hair fell past her waist. Connecting the dots, he realized she had controlled the wind that knocked out so many of Monroe's men.

He approached her as the police cleared the forest of Monroe and her posse.

"So nymphs can control wind?"

"Some of them," she smiled softly. "I connect with the air around me. I think it's how I followed Jordan's heat into the woods the very first full moon I spent here."

"Do you think that has something to do with why you felt cold all the time until you found Parrish?"

"That was a fail-safe I created when I hid Cerberus in the Nemeton to help me find him again someday."

"So you remember everything?"

"I think I do."

Parrish joined them again and took Daphne in his arms.

"Alright, come here, you two, bring it in!" Stiles pulled the pair into a hug, and their laughter echoed into the trees.

Scott marveled at the lengths Daphne had gone to for Parrish as a nymph and then again as a human, not even knowing who she was or what she was capable of at the time.

Her love of the hellhound resonated with him, and he clutched Malia's hand as they all headed out of the woods toward the warehouse.

Love made their pack stronger, and it would always be something they would fight to protect.

* * *

_Fin_.

* * *

_**I tried to wrap up all of the loose plot points, so hopefully it didn't end up too convoluted. I've appreciated all the feedback, favorites, and follows. Thanks for joining me in this little adventure. It was a blast. -V**_


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